


The Lion's Lamb: Book 1

by SweetSunnyRose



Series: The Lion's Lamb [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Prince Caspian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSunnyRose/pseuds/SweetSunnyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know ‘tis very different from Anvard, is it not? It seems so…unhappy. But you know, Béla, the Lion hath sent us here. Whatever His will, we must follow. Perchance someday He will grant us a return, until that day…”</p><p>Book one of The Lion's Lamb saga, in which Lysandra leaves Archenland for Narnia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion's Lamb: Book 1

**The** **Lion’s** **Lamb**

 **Book 1:** **Chapter** **1**

 

            DONG-da-Ding-da-DONG! DONG-da-Ding-da-DONG!

 

            The bell was tolling frantically as she raced through the stone halls. _“Where is he?”_ she wondered _“And why has he returned? The Professor and I did not go through the trouble of getting him out, only to have him return for death.”_

Lysandra paused briefly in her thoughts and gave a mental sigh. She shouldn’t judge. It had been several days since she last saw him fleeing. Perhaps something had happened since then. Perhaps he had good reason to come back. _“Or rather, maybe he **thought** he had a good reason to come back.”_

            Well, for whatever his reason or for whatever he was thinking, she had to help him escape once more. But! She had to find him before the guards did.

            “By Thine grace, mighty Lion,” she whispered softly as she rounded the next corner. She hardly had time to smile before jumping into a full run again. He, not the Lion but the one she was looking for, was just down the hall running towards her. Lysandra had just enough time to register the shock on his face before she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a nearby deserted room.

            The room was no more than a closet really. There was hardly any room to move and there was no lit candle or even a small window to provide light. The stone walls were lined with wooden shelves, and the shelves were full of linens. In the corner there was an old wooden bucket and an even older, and grungier, mop. _“We must be near some more sleeping quarters,”_ Lysandra thought.

            “Lys, what are you…”

            She meant to go for his mouth, but because it was dark she aimed too high and ended up smacking him in the nose with the butt of her palm.

            “Ow!”

            “Shhh,” she hissed. “And I beg thy forgiveness. ‘Twas mine intent to cover your mouth.”

            “Why? What are you…Mmmm”

            There was suddenly a dim golden glow in the closet. Lysandra was unsure where the light was coming from, but she didn’t pause to ponder it. She simply took advantage of the dim glow and properly covered his mouth.

            “Would you be quiet before you get us both caught and slain,” she whispered harshly. She continued after a small sigh. “You are not supposed to be here. You should be on your way to Archenland. I was leaving tomorrow to follow after thee. What were you thinking in coming back?”

            He grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his mouth. “We are taking the castle.”

            “Tush!” She squeaked softly. “You jest! No one has ever taken this castle. It cannot be done.”

            “Lys…”

            “Listen! Do you hear that?” They both paused and listened to the bell that was still sounding. “Your plan—and I am assuming you did _have_ a plan—has failed. You need to leave this castle now. Thine uncle will not hesitate to kill you if he finds you.”

            “I am not leaving without Peter and Susan,” he said shaking his head.

            “P-Peter and S-Susan?” She stumbled over the names as her thought process came to a sudden halt. _“The Peter and Susan?”_ she wondered. Could it really be them? Or was it another? But who would bear such odd and…noble names such as Peter and Susan. She had no time to fully contemplate this now. “I am sorry, but they are in the Lion’s care now.”

            “You mean, they are…they have died so soon?” He moved in closer and the fierceness in his eyes gave Lysandra a new reason to stumble over her words.

            “I—I do not know. But I do know that you will die if you do not leave now!”

            He shook his head. “Not without them. I cannot…I shall not leave them.”

            “Please—”

            “Do not say it, Lys. I implore you, do not.”

            Lysandra looked the young Telmarine Prince firm in the eye and with great resolution she said, “Trust me.”

 

**10 Months earlier…**

 

            Lysandra coaxed her horse up the steep incline. The eastern horizon gleamed with the rising sun. She had only been up for a short hour, but already the day seemed too long. Both horse and rider were tired and worn. It had been a long month and a longer journey, but Lysandra knew they had to be close. Any day now they would arrive at their destination. Any day.

            At last they reached the top of the incline, and Lysandra felt she could nearly shout for joy—if she weren’t quite so tired that is. As it turned out “any day” was today. Lysandra looked down the hill and along the trodden road and smiled with relief, sitting before her, though still a good distance away, was the busy town of Beaver’s Dam and the King’s Castle. As she looked at the town a bit longer though, her smile quickly faded. It was closed in by cold, stone walls and it had this strange foreboding feeling. It did not seem like a very happy city.

            “There it is, Béla,” Lysandra said as she rubbed her steed’s neck. “The King’s Castle in Beaver’s Dam.”

Béla gave a snort of disapproval.

            “I know ‘tis very different from Anvard, is it not? It seems so…unhappy. But you know, Béla, the Lion hath sent us here. Whatever His will, we must follow. Perhaps someday He will grant us a return, but until that day…I suppose this is home now. Though, I do not think it will ever truly be my home.”

            Lysandra sighed despairingly and Béla gave his consent.

            “Come, Béla. We have tarried long enough. We must continue onward.”

            Lysandra gave a gentle squeeze with her legs and Béla began walking steadily down the hill. It was another few hours, nearly mid morning, before they reached the outer city wall. Lysandra dismounted Béla just before they entered; she could tell by looking that however cold the stone walls appeared Beaver’s Dam was busy enough on the inside, and she knew she could maneuver her way through the crowd with greater ease on foot than on horseback.

            Beaver’s Dam was similar to Anvard in that it was composed of three city levels: lower, mid, and upper. The lower city was composed of numerous houses and buildings made of clay and wood with thatched roofs. The familiar smell of the blacksmith’s fire, and the cobbler’s work, and the butcher’s shop pervaded the streets and Lysandra’s nose alike. Hardly a person at all noticed Béla and Lysandra as they passed through, and those that did offered a friendly smile and a cheerful ‘good morrow.’

            Lysandra and Béla passed through another wall into the mid-town. There wasn’t much difference between the mid-town and the lower city except that the buildings were made of finer clay and wood, and a few of them had flat stone roofs instead of thatched. There were various merchants lining the streets selling their wares to the passersby. There were more glances towards the horse and girl but fewer friendly greetings.

            Lysandra and Béla kept moving forward towards their final destination. They passed through yet another wall that separated the mid-town from the upper. Here the buildings were made of stone, not clay, and there were no thatched roofs. Many of the buildings had two levels. Lysandra knew the lower level housed the shops and the upper level was where the families slept and ate meals; at least, that is how the multi-level buildings in Anvard were. The streets of the upper-city were crowded with soldiers and courtiers, not the common peasants like the lower levels. Here, Lysandra suddenly felt out of place. She became increasingly more aware of her dirty and rugged state. While living in the wild for a month it is rather difficult to find a decent place to properly clean; one’s difficulty increases when they do not like large, flowing, bodies of water. Every eye seemed to turn Lysandra’s way as she walked by and every nose seemed to turn up. Beaver’s Dam may have been similar to Anvard in its layout, but that was all they seemed to share. In Anvard, it was not uncommon to see lower-city folk shopping or selling in the upper-city or visa-versa.

            At last Lysandra and Béla came to the end of the upper city and the High Street, and before them stood a long, narrow bridge leading into the castle. Lysandra could hear the sound of rushing water and she tentatively approached the edge of the bridge and looked over. As she feared, the castle was surrounded by the river and a very rocky shore line. She cringed and stepped back into the middle of the bridge. Lysandra absolutely detested large bodies of water. As though sensing her sudden, paralyzing fear, Béla gently shoved the back of Lysandra’s shoulder with his head; he was now urging her forward. He walked up to stand beside her and she curled her hand into his snow white mane, and he began walking forward with her in tow.

            After what felt like hours they finally reached the end of the bridge, only to come to another bridge: a draw bridge which had no sides. Standing before the draw bridge though were two guards with large, pointed spears and they crossed them before the pair barring the way.

            “What business hast thou in the castle?” one of the guards asked.

            _“Really? I have to talk while standing on a bridge over water? This is not going to be good.”_ Lysandra opened her mouth and tried to answer the guard, but no sound would come out.

            “Speak, you mute,” the guard barked. “What business hast thou in the castle?”

            “I—I—I…”

            “Speak or turn back now.”

            _“By Thine grace, mighty Lion.”_ Lysandra heard, or rather she felt, a gentle purring deep within.

            “I have come to see Professor Cornelius. He is expecting me,” she said at last.

            The other guard pulled out a scroll from somewhere, Lysandra didn’t see where, and unrolled it while somehow still holding his spear crossed before him. “He is on the list,” the guard said after several silent seconds.

            “You may pass,” the first guard said and together they snapped their spears back to their sides.

            Béla began walking once more and Lysandra followed along, still holding on tightly to his mane. It took Lysandra a moment of standing in the middle of the courtyard to finally regain her senses and loosen her hold. She immediately combed her fingers through Béla’s mane and gave him a loving rub in thanks. Béla nuzzled his nose into her hand in response.

            After giving Béla his proper thanks Lysandra looked around at her new surroundings. She was in the castle courtyard, and what a courtyard it was. Though it was large, easily twice the size of the front courtyard of Anvard, it was entirely made of stone. There were several stairs, doors, balconies, windows, and archways, but there wasn’t a green living plant anywhere in sight. The courtyard of Anvard only had stone paths surrounding a grass court with beautiful flowers and a majestic tree. The Anvard courtyard contained the essence of life; the Beaver’s Dam courtyard was as cold as the stone it was made of.

            Lysandra was beginning to see just how different Beaver’s Dam was from Anvard.

After a month of traveling she finally stood in the shadow of the castle. Now, all she had to do was find the good professor. The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea where in the castle he might be. Lysandra tried asking the few people in the courtyard if they knew where to find the professor, but they all shook their heads no. Either they really did not know where he was, or they just weren’t telling her. She could have gone back and asked one of the guards if they knew where she could find the professor, but that would mean crossing back over the drawbridge, and she really did not want to do that.

            Béla whinnied and nudged the back of her shoulder again. Lysandra turned to face him and rubbed a hand up his nose.

            “Do not fret, Béla; we shall find the professor,” she said consolingly, though more for her own need than Béla’s. “He must be here somewhere. Even in a castle this large, there are only so many places one can hide.”

            “You are looking for the Professor?” someone suddenly asked.

            Lysandra turned around in a start to find a boy standing behind her. Though, truthfully, boy would be a misconception. He was closer to her age than that of a young boy’s. He had dark brown hair that fell about his eyes and tapered down to his shoulders. And his eyes were a deep brown that any girl, who didn’t have her wits about her, could easily become lost in. It’s a good thing Lysandra wasn’t one of those girls. He was clothed in finer clothes than Lysandra, but really some of the peasants were clothed better than she. And he had a horse with him; his horse was as black as Béla was white.

            Lysandra nodded her head. “Yes. Do you know him?”

            “I do,” the boy replied.

            “Great. Do you know where I might find him, then?”

            “He is probably in his rooms.”

            “Wonderful. Many thanks, good sir, for your help.” Lysandra turned from the boy as though she were about to march off to the professor’s rooms, but she remained standing where she was.

            “You do not know where his rooms are, do you?” the boy asked with an amused tone.

            Lysandra turned back to look at the boy again. “I must admit, I do not know the way. This is my first time visiting the castle.”

            He chuckled. “I can walk you there, if you would like?”

            “I would like that actually, yes. Many thanks again.”

            The boy nodded his welcome before turning his eyes to Béla. “Though first, we must see to our companions. Yours seems to be a noble steed.”

            “Indeed he is. He will be even mightier when has been properly groomed, fed, and has received great rest.” Lysandra rubbed Béla’s neck as she gave him her promise once more.

            “We can see to that. What is his name?”

            “Béla.”

            “Welcome, Béla, to Beaver’s Dam. I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” The boy reached out a hand to rub Béla’s nose, and Béla quietly let him.

“Thy steed, too, appears mighty and righteous. What do you call him?” Lysandra asked.

            “Destrier,” the boy replied. “Yes he is a good steed. Some would say he is even fit for a prince.”

            “I may readily agree with them.”

The boy smiled curiously at Lysandra; there was something very different about the girl that stood before him. Her dress, roughly made from the cheapest of fabrics, was a pale blue, faded from the sun and long wear, and it was tattered and torn around the edges. She held no rank higher than peasant, and yet her horse almost certainly was of noble lineage. And though she was only a common peasant, she had come calling on Professor Cornelius, the Prince’s personal tutor. All of this indeed set her apart from the other maidens of Beaver’s Dam, but still there seemed more. There was something about her face, a light in her eyes that one did not often find in Narnia.

            “Were you going to show me to the stables, before leading me to the Professor?” Lysandra asked.

            “The stables?” the boy questioned.

            “Our horses. We were going to see to them before going to see the Professor.”

            “Right. My apologies, fair maiden. It seems distraction befalls me easily this day.”

Lysandra dropped her eyes to her feet while the boy scanned his eyes around the courtyard as though looking for someone.

            “General Glozelle!” he called out at last. Lysandra lifted her head in time to see an older man begin to approach. Like the boy, the man had dark hair and dark eyes, but instead of a clean face, he had a full beard and mustache. He appeared rather gruff, but then an acclaimed general such as he would be.

            “Take Destrier to the stables and see that he is groomed and fed,” the boy ordered handing over the reins of his horse. “And take Béla here as well, and see to it that he is given the finest treatment. He has had a long journey to be sure.”

            Then, to Lysandra’s horror, the General bowed and said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

            “Highness?” she asked. “You are Prince Caspian?”

            The boy smiled and nodded hesitantly. “I am.”

            “Oh!” Lysandra promptly curtsied and bowed her head. “I beg your forgiveness, Sire. I did not know ‘twas you. I am not from these parts, or surely I would have known sooner.”

            “I did think as much,” the Prince said.

            “How did you know?” Lysandra asked after rising from her curtsey.

            “Your clothing is…different.

            Lysandra looked down at her simple blue dress, and blue netted sash, and worn ridding boots. She shrugged her shoulder. Sure, it was a bit dirty, all of her was, but most of the women back in Archenland wore something similar to this.

            “It is not right for a gentleman to point out a woman’s clothing so negatively,” she said.

            “No I was not…I mean…I only…” The Prince paused to regain his composure. “You are right. I Now I beg your pardon once more.”

            “‘Tis given, milord” she said with a smile.

            “So, if I may ask, where are you from?”

            “A long way from here,” she simply replied.

            “And what brings you to Beaver’s Dam?”

            “I have come to see Professor Cornelius.”

            “Oh!” The Prince cringed. “That is right. He is going to be most angered, I fear; I am terribly late for my morning lessons. Come, we must be gone.”

            Prince Caspian began leading the way and Lysandra quickly followed after him, with her small bag in tow; she managed to take it from Béla before the General led him away. The Prince continued to inquire of her as they walked, but Lysandra kept most of her responses brief and vague. When he asked her name though, she did give him that much. The inside of the castle was as different from the inside of the castle of Anvard as their courtyards were. Lysandra felt a cool chill on her arms and thought she might want to reattach her long sleeves if it was going to be that cool all the time.

            At last, after several twists and turns, they arrived at what Lysandra assumed was the Professor’s rooms. The room itself was a mess. There were piles of papers and books everywhere. And amongst the mess was a short and round old man. He was dressed in burgundy clothes to which his long grey beard stood out. When he looked their way Lysandra saw that his face was very wrinkled and a pair of eye glasses sat low on his nose.

            “You are late,” he said upon seeing them. Lysandra thought he was talking to her and she stumbled for words.

            “I…”

            “I am sorry, Professor,” the Prince said as he stepped around Lysandra. “It was a beautiful morning and I thought I would take Destrier out for a quick ride.”

            “A quick ride?” the old Professor asked skeptically. “Sit down and take up your literature scroll and began reading where we last left.”

            “Yes, Professor.” The Prince promptly began doing what he was instructed to do.

            The Professor looked back to Lysandra. “And who are you?”

            “I am Lysandra, and I have come for work. I was told you were looking for assistance. I believe word was sent of my arrival.”

            “Yes, well, let me see your hands then.” Lysandra dropped her bag and held her hands out for him to take. He turned them over several times. “Hmm. They have seen work before. I suppose they will do. Can you organize, arrange, and straighten up?”

            “Yes, good Professor.”

            “Then get to work.” He pointed to the piles of papers and books around the room. Lysandra stared blankly at the various piles. “Do not just stand there, child. Clean.”

            Lysandra gently kicked her bag to the side before heading towards the first pile. This was going to take awhile, but the Lamb never said anything about the way being easy.

 

XOXOX

            It was only a few hours later when a cart of food was brought in, but to Lysandra it felt like several long hours. Behind her, Lysandra could hear the Prince and the Professor begin to eat while she remained hard at work. She was hungry for most of her journey so being hungry wasn’t anything new. That, however, did not stop her stomach from voicing its protests.

            “Professor, it sounds as though someone is need of food,” the Prince said quietly, though Lysandra could still hear the laughter in his voice. There were a few intense seconds of silence and somehow Lysandra knew they were both staring at her. She quickly turned around.

            “Oh, no, I am well. I do not need anything.”

            “Nonsense,” the Professor said. “Caspian is right. Come, sit and eat with us.” He offered a wide smile.

            “No, truly, I do not need anything. I have gone much longer without any food.”

            “Well, you do not have to go so long anymore. Come, sit with us and have some lunch. Your work can wait until later.”

            “I—I thank you.” Lysandra set down the pile of papers she was currently sorting and joined them at their small table. The Professor promptly poured her a cup of tea and she accepted it graciously.

            “Please forgive my old mind child, but what is your name again?” he asked.

            “Lysandra, Sir,” she replied. “Oh, and here, I have a note addressed to you from my King. It explains again my reason for coming here.” Lysandra quickly handed the Professor the note before taking a small bite of food.

            His eyes skimmed over the note before saying, “Lysandra. A lovely name.”

            “For a lovely maiden,” the Prince added quickly. Lysandra did well not to choke on her food at that moment. She looked at the young Prince curiously, but she could not tell if he was jesting or not.

            “You are too kind,” she said rather softly and awkwardly.

            “Caspian is right,” the Professor said. “A lovely name for a lovely girl. You have much of your mother’s countenance; she had a great and rare beauty too.”

            “You knew my mother?”

            “You are Lysan’s daughter?”

            “Yes.” Lysandra nodded vigorously. She did not expect to find someone in Narnia who knew _her_ mother.

            “Then yes, I knew your mother, but…that was many years ago, before you knew her I shouldn’t wonder.”

            “I did not think anyone would know of my mother here. And you think I have her face?”

            “I know it child; I should have seen it sooner. I am sorry I did not.”

            Lysandra smiled and wrapped her fingers around the necklaces that hung around her neck, while her vision clouded with tears.

            “Thank you, Sir. A girl can receive no greater compliment than to be told she has a countenance like that of her dear mother’s.”

            It was peacefully quiet for a moment before the Prince said, “I am sorry for your loss.”

            “You knew my mother too?”

            “Nay,” he replied delicately. “But I could tell…How long has it been?”

            “My mother died almost six months ago, Sire.”

            “Then you knew her well?”

            Lysandra nodded my head solemnly. “She was my greatest companion.”

            “My mother died when I was five; I barely remember her,” the Prince said softly.

            “Children these days,” the Professor grumbled. “Whoever heard of speaking about death while eating? It is not well, I tell you.”

            Lysandra smiled softly and the Prince said, “You are right Dr. Cornelius. How dreadful we are! We should speak of other things at once to put far from our minds the matter of death.”

            “Then what should we speak of?” Lysandra asked.

            “You,” the Prince said.

            “Me? There is nothing of me to speak on.”

            “Nonsense! There is much of you to be said. Why you only arrived here today, we know nothing of you but your name. Let us begin with your home. I assumed you were from Beruna, but you claim your home is far from here and Beruna is only a two day’s ride. So, Lysandra, where do you call home?”

            “Hyrden.”

            “Hyrden? I have never heard of that town. Is it north of Beruna or to the west of here?”

            “Hyrden is not a town and it is not in Narnia. Hyrden is but a small sheep herding village beyond the castle walls of Anvard in Archenland.”

            “Archenland? You rode all the way from Archenland? How did you come?”

            “There is but one path from Anvard to Beaver’s Dam; I came by the pass and through the woods.”

            “The woods?” Prince Caspian repeated in shock. “None dare go through the woods. The Ghosts did not capture you?”

            “Ghosts?” Lysandra asked with a disbelieving laugh. “Your Highness, I am Archen. We do not believe in ghosts.”

            “Your belief in them does not alter their existence.”

            Lysandra glanced between the young Prince and the learned Professor. The Prince honestly believed there to be ghosts in the woods, and he seemed to think it pure madness that anyone would choose to willingly pass through them. The Professor, though, was grinning and hiding a glimmer in his bright eyes. Somehow Lysandra knew that he thought the idea of ghosts as preposterous as she.

            Still, she did not refute the Prince’s statement. She merely said, “I cannot argue with that logic.”

            After all, she knew that just because Telmarines like the Prince did not believe in the Great Lion it did not alter the fact that He existed.

 

XOXOX

            They spoke a little more after that. Lysandra told them of her long journey while they finished eating. The Prince still found it odd that Lysandra would choose to pass through the woods and he asked several times why she would do such a thing. She simply shrugged and told him that after her mother died she came looking for work. She was not about to tell him her true reasons for leaving home; she was not going to tell him that the Lamb had sent her. Once they all had their fill, the Professor declared that it was time for the Prince to get back to his studies, and Lysandra went back to work sorting through the Professor’s texts. That is how they spent the remainder of the day.

            When early evening came by the Prince grudgingly left the Professor’s rooms. Lysandra worked for maybe an hour more before the Professor told her to stop.

            “It will all be there for you to work on tomorrow. And I do apologize for the mess. I did have it all put away, but I cleared that room out for you.”

            Then he led her to a side chamber. Inside it was a simple room with a simple bed and a simple wardrobe.

            “I know it is small, but…”

            “No, it is wonderful, Professor, really. It reminds me of my room in Hyrden.”

            “Well, I am pleased you like it.”

            “I adore it, Professor. Thank you.”

            “And as long as you are living here, you may call me Cornelius. Now please, while we have a moment, will you tell me more of this dream you had?”

            “Did King Nain not tell you about it?”

            “He briefly mentioned it in his note you gave me, but he did not go into great detail for fear of interception.”

            “Oh, well I can understand that. I suppose if the Telmarines are paranoid enough to believe there are ghosts in the woods, then they would not care much for my dream.”

            The Professor chuckled. “No, I think not. Now tell me, was it Aslan who spoke to you.”

            “Oh! Nay, good sir. No, it was not the Lion. It was His Lamb.”

            Lysandra then proceeded to tell the Professor all about the strange dream which was her true reason for leaving the grazing mountains of Hyrden for the stoned courtyard of Beaver’s Dam.

 

XOXOX

            “And so you left, without further question?” the Professor asked when Lysandra’s story was complete.

            “Well, I had to. The Lamb said it was the Lion’s will, and whatever His will, I must follow.”

            The Professor sat back in his chair and smiled. “Your faith in the Lion is very strong.”

            “I am Archen. We have not forgotten; even if the Telmarines do not believe, or even if Narnia has forgotten, we have not. Songs of The Four, and King Cor’s mighty escape from Tashbaan, and his brother Corin Thunderfist are still sung in the halls of Anvard.”

            The Professor gave a merry smile and a hearty chuckle. “It is refreshing to hear of such faith, especially in one with only thirteen years.” But then his face turned quite firm and his voice grew low as he leaned forward across the table. “But that is enough talk of that, such words would not be welcomed here. You must be careful whom you divulge such information too.”

            For a moment Lysandra was terribly frightened and could not respond. The Professor smiled softly and sat back in his chair once more.

            “You look as though you could use a nice washing. You will find a basin with water and some soaps in that room there.” He pointed to the proper room. “Dinner should be here by the time you are finished.”

            “Thank you, Professor,” Lysandra said with only the slightest quiver in her voice.

Without further pause, Lysandra took up her bag and headed to the room indicated. Inside she found all the Professor said there would be. It had been over a month since her last real washing. After washing, Lysandra reentered the Professor’s main chambers in fresh clothing and found dinner waiting. The Professor and Lysandra ate together and discussed what her work for him would entail. Again, he apologized for the mess, but she assured him it was nothing compared to her mother’s disorganization. After dinner, Lysandra found herself very tired and she retired for an early night.

            And thus was Lysandra’s first day in Beaver’s Dam.

 


End file.
